


Pesadillas y Humo del Cigarrillo

by m4jor3tt3



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Multi, Nightmares, implied ace!Maria, implied depression, not Jorge Gutierrez twitter compliant, polyship, tbol spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m4jor3tt3/pseuds/m4jor3tt3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The next few nights were brutal. At first, Joaquin and Maria didn't notice it, and assumed Manolo was just starting a habit of waking up early. Then he started acting strange."</p>
<p>Manolo is a bit fragile after dying, almost losing everything he held dear, then being brought back to life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pesadillas y Humo del Cigarrillo

_“You have made it passed the labyrinth- you have earned the right to be judged.”_

_He’s standing strong, his shoulders squared and determination in his eyes._

_“For… Maria-“_

_Suddenly, he hears his mother scream. He quickly turns around, seeing his mother’s painted bones slowly turning gray. She looks up at him sadly, shaking her head. “Mama-” He calls out, reaching out to her. “It’s too late, Manolo,” she says sadly, then suddenly, as if she had turned to ash, she disintegrated and blew away on a gust of wind._

_“Mama, no!” He screams, then looks up. The sword is coming down onto him. He covers his face and-_

“Manolo, wake up!”

When Manolo finally opens his eyes, he’s drenched in a cold sweat and his chest is heaving; Joaquin and Maria are hovering over him, Joaquin’s hands on his shoulders and Maria’s thin fingers carefully smoothing down his wild curls. “It’s okay, querido, it was only a dream,” she says softly, pulling her hand back as Manolo slowly sat up. “I… I was… with my mother, a-and-” His breath caught in his throat and he covered his mouth. Joaquin quickly draped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close and shushing him gently. “It’s okay, Manny- you’re safe,” he murmured, lifting a hand to brush a tear from Manolo’s cheek with his thumb.

“I-I… I need to go see my mother-”

“Manolo, it is the middle of the night, you are not going to a cemetery,” Maria protested, running her hand through his hair again.

“I n-need… need to make sure sh-she’s okay-”

“She is, Manolo,” Joaquin said, frowning as he glanced over to Maria, who was wearing the same expression.

Manolo swallowed hard, sniffling before shrugging off his two lovers. “I… I need some air,” he muttered, crawling out of the warmth of the bed and slowly walking out of the room. As he made his way towards the balcony doors, he paused, wet his lips, then turned to walk into the kitchen. He quietly pulled open a cupboard, finding the box of matches they used to light the stove, then went up on his toes to grab a small box from the top shelf of the cupboard. He sighed softly, rubbing at his eye before finally making his way to the balcony, shutting the door behind him.

Maria had brought back several things from her travels- posters, knick-knacks and the like. One item she’d brought back was a package of cigarettes someone had given her- she had confessed that she had tried one or two, but had no appeal, yet had no desire to get rid of the package, for keepsake purposes. At least they were coming in handy now. Manolo flipped open the package and let out a long sigh, pulling one of the cigarettes free and sticking it between his lips. He dropped the pack on the floor then pulled out the matches. He quickly lit one, examining the flame briefly before putting it to the end of the cigarette. He inhaled, closing his eyes and immediately began to cough, puffs of smoke escaping his lips. The burn of smoke and tar was unfamiliar to him- he should have paced himself. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, then made another attempt. This one went much smoother, albeit a few more quiet coughs escaped him.

This wasn’t the first nightmare Manolo had had since his “death.” He’d had plenty more alongside this one, and they neither got better nor worse, they remained the same kind of awful every time. Even though he was back in the Land of the Living, his town and friends were safe, they’d never have to worry about Chakal again, he was still plagued with nasty, horrid thoughts. If he hadn’t been reckless, his father might still be alive. If he had made one mistake, he wouldn’t be here. If he hadn’t made it in time, everyone he cared about would be gone, with no one to remember them. Joaquin nearly died to save his life.

He took another pull of the cigarette, managing to do so this time without coughing, blowing a stream of smoke slowly and smoothing into the cold night air. After the wedding, Joaquin had come up to him and cried- something Manolo had never seen before. Joaquin had never been one to express his feelings in such an outward way, and seeing him nearly fell apart in front of him, tears pouring from his good eye as endless apologies fell from his lips. “I shouldn’t have said what I said,” “I didn’t mean it,” “I was upset, I never wanted you to die,” “Those were almost my last words to you,” “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” It tore Manolo up inside to see his best friend in such a state. Maria had been upset as well, but her reaction was nothing compared to Joaquin’s. He remembered often how out of grief, Joaquin had told Manolo it should’ve been him to be killed by the snake, but standing by his friend in that time of sorrow, he’d been selfish and begged for his own death to find someone who wasn’t even gone. How Joaquin must have felt seeing Manolo’s body after what he’d said, Manolo could only imagine.

He hissed as he finished the cigarette, the end of it reaching his fingers and surprising him with a sudden jolt of heat. He pressed the embers into the iron railing of the balcony, watching the orange fade to black before flicking it out of his fingers and watching it tumble through the darkness and disappear on the street below. He carded his hands through his hair, shaking his head before turning to pick the pack of cigarettes off the floor, then quietly made his way back inside.

*

The next few nights were brutal. At first, Joaquin and Maria didn’t notice it, and assumed Manolo was just starting a habit of waking up early. Then he started acting strange.

It started when Manolo put his guitar away in a closet. Maria found it while dressing herself one morning, and immediately approached Manolo about it.

“Why did you hide this?” She’d asked Manolo was lying across the loveseat in the living room, one arm and one leg dangling off the edge of the sofa; his eyes were closed and he didn’t bother to open them when Maria addressed him.

“I can’t play anything,” he responded, voice hoarse.

Maria placed her free hand on her hip, tilting her head. “So, why put it away entirely?” She pressed, staring down at Manolo to try and will him to open his eyes. Manolo simply sighed, then turned onto his side to face away from her as he muttered, “I just don’t want to look at it.” Maria bit her lip softly, then, in an attempt to get him on his feet, she propped the instrument up against the side of the couch. She returned to the bedroom to finish getting ready, then headed into the washroom to brush through her hair.

When she returned to the bedroom, the guitar was back in the closet, and Manolo was back on the couch.

The second instance was when Joaquin found himself waking up in the middle of the night and Manolo was missing. He pulled himself out of bed and immediately began to shiver, rubbing absentmindedly at his arms as he walked out of the bedroom.

The doors to the balcony were open, which explained how cold it was, but what was strange was seeing Manolo out on the balcony leaning against the railing. “It’s freeing out here,” Joaquin said through chattering teeth as he stepped outside, standing beside Manolo. There was a cigarette between his lips, and dark tired circles under his eyes. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” He muttered, pulling the cigarette from his lips and blowing out the smoke lazily.

“No, I woke up on my own,” Joaquin said, glancing at the cigarette as Manolo folded his arms on top of the railing. “I didn’t know you smoked.” Manolo shrugged slightly, eyes falling and watching the empty street below. “I didn’t either.” He returned the cigarette to his lips, taking a slow drag and closing his eyes. As he breathed out, Joaquin bit his lip, looking out over the railing. “You know, Maria and I are pretty worried about you,” he said, glancing over at him as he folded his arms. Manolo hummed quietly around the cigarette, but otherwise did not respond. “You… aren’t eating, or sleeping, Maria said you stopped playing-”

“What’s your point, Joaquin?” Manolo said, looking over at him and arching an eyebrow. Joaquin’s eye widened slightly, and he cleared his throat, shrugging and turning to face him.

“Manolo, you’re my friend,” he said, looking down. “My… friend who’s married to my other friend that I occasionally… sleep with, but my friend nonetheless. That being said, I… I care about you. A lot. And I… hate seeing you like this.”

Manolo finished his cigarette, shaking his head as he put it out on the railing. “Joaquin, go back to bed,” he said, not bothering to make eye contact with him. As he attempted to push past Joaquin to go back inside, Joaquin grabbed his forearm firmly. “Not without you,” he persisted, staring back at Manolo and hoping he could get through to him. Manolo let out another sigh, pulling his arm free and looking up at Joaquin, eyes tired and sad. “Go back to bed, Joaquin,” he repeated before turning around and walking back inside, leaving Joaquin in the cold, worried and shivering.

*

It was the fourteenth night when Maria and Joaquin had finally had enough. Once both of them were home, they both sat down on either side of Manolo on the couch he’d left maybe three times. “What’s going on?” He asked looking between the two of them and running a hand through his hair. Maria looked over to Joaquin, who nodded briefly before looking back at Manolo. “We’re concerned for your wellbeing,” Maria said slowly, folding her hands in her lap. “You… aren’t eating or sleeping, you haven’t touched your guitar in two weeks-”

“You haven’t left the apartment, when you aren’t in the shower you’re smoking on the balcony,” Joaquin added with a heavy sigh. “We want to know what the matter is so we can help you fix it.”

Manolo shook his head, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand as he looked over at Maria. “Look, I… appreciate your concern, but… this isn’t something that I can just fix.”

Maria pursed her lips then shook her head. “Sorry, amor, that isn’t the answer we’re looking for,” she said, reaching over to take Manolo’s hand and smiling sadly. “Talk to us.” Joaquin nodded in return, reaching over to take Manolo’s other hand. “Tell us what’s wrong,” he said, running his thumb gently over his knuckles. “We want to help.” Manolo looked down at his lovers’ hands, then shook his head, swallowing hard.

“The nightmares. I… I can’t handle them,” he finally said, keeping his head down as his hands began to tremble slightly in Maria and Joaquin’s grasp. “All… all I ever see when I close my eyes a-are… the things that could have gone wrong. All the mistakes I made. I-I… I watch Maria die over and over again, I see my mother disappear before my eyes, Joaquin, I see that… explosion blow you to bits, and I can never… never save anyone because I’m not… n-not strong enough- I’m not playing guitar because it reminds me o=of… what could have gotten the entire city destroyed by Chakal and his bandits, I’m not eating because I don’t see the point, and I’m not sleeping because I’m tired of seeing everyone I care about die and there’s nothing I can do to save them.”

Somewhere in the middle of his spiel, Manolo had started crying, and then his head was on Joaquin’s shoulder. As he cried, Maria had let go of his hand, then wrapped her arms around Manolo’s waist, her head on his chest as she held him tightly. Joaquin carefully put his own arms around the two of them.

“You are strong, querido,” Maria said softly, heart breaking with every sob that ripped from his chest. “You went through a traumatic event and you made it back alive and well. I’m fine, Joaquin is fine, the town is safe, and everything is okay.”

“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, Manny,” Joaquin said, dropping a gentle kiss to the top of his head before burying his nose into his hair. “I’m sorry that someone as good as you is suffering so much.”

“We love you and will protect you,” Maria said, squeezing his middle.

“Always.” Joaquin added, shaking his head and closing his eye.

It was quiet for a moment, the Maria lifted her head to look up at Joaquin, who was wearing an identical, confused expression. “Is he…” The sobbing had ceased, and Manolo’s breathing had slowly evened out. Joaquin looked down at the man lying against his shoulder, who was… sleeping soundly. Maria smiled, looking up at Joaquin who was chuckling and shaking his head. He shifted slightly, pulling Manolo into his chest; Maria pulled her legs up onto the couch and relaxed against her husband, smiling fondly and closing her eyes. “Buenos noches, Joaquin,” she yawned, nuzzling into Manolo’s chest. Joaquin yawned in return, nodding and relaxing into the couch.

*

“You know, I realized something that wasn’t bad about Manolo not sleeping,” Maria said, twisting her hair into a loose bun on the top of her head, walking up to Joaquin in the kitchen and going up on her toes to kiss the back of his neck. Joaquin looked over his shoulder at Maria. “What could possibly be good about a sleep deprived, depressed husband?” Joaquin asked, arching an eyebrow. Maria smirked, grabbing Joaquin’s hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. “While I love that he’s feeling better,” she whispered, carefully pushing open the door.

Manolo was sprawled out across the bed, one sheet tangled up and strewn over his waist, the quilt originally covering the bed on the floor, his head tipped back into the pillows. “That’s what I didn’t miss.” Maria explained, nodding to her sleeping husband. Joaquin stared at Manolo in disbelief, then looked back at Maria. “I don’t get it- how is he still asleep, it’s one in the afterno-”

He was interrupted by a sudden snore, rivaling an earthquake in volume. Joaquin’s mouth dropped open at Manolo in disbelief as Maria nodded slowly, closing her eyes. “That, too.”

“How is he that loud?” Joaquin whispered, looking down at Maria. She shrugged, folding her arms over her chest. “You tell me,” she said, looking up at him and smirking. “You’re having more sex with him than I am.”


End file.
